If only Meredith had gottena flue shot ... or washed her hands properly.

Every year, a nurse comes to our office to dole out flu shots to everyone who wants them.

But Angela said that isn’t in the budget this year. It’s still covered by our insurance, but if we want one, we have to get one somewhere else. Of course waits this year are crazy with people more scared about the flu than ever. Ugh.

However, Dunder Mifflin did not totally abandon us. They came up with a backup plan.

In lieu of flu shots, the company issued signs for each branch to print and post in the bathroom that outline how to properly wash our hands.

The life-shaking events I wrote about in the last post have really got me thinking. I’m re-evaluating things and trying to set new priorities.

My schedule right now is so jammed packed with working at a job where my boss drives me insane, working a part-time job just to make ends meet and helping take care of various family issues that I’m ready to snap.

This is why, at least for now, I will be taking a break from I Work at the Office.

I may still update now and then if a really great story pops up. But I figure the time I take complaining about my situation might better be spent searching for new opportunities.

So this summer, my resolution is to pursue any jobs or personal projects that I have always wished I could do and really focus on making something good happen with my life. Think of this as the time during The Office when Pam was barely on the show because she was at design school in New York.

If anyone is interested, I will however be more than happy to post your own stories about Office-worthy work place adventures.

Thanks for reading and check back from time to time or follow me on Twitter for alerts on blog updates.

So it’s been a rough few weeks at the Beesly household. A younger cousin of mine died a few weeks ago, and a week later, grandma Beesly was rushed to the hospital, where she spent a week and a half. It was touch and go for a while. Scary stuff. Hence my lack of blogging.

Aaaaaaaaanywho. Let us not dwell on that. The headline promises funny.

So the day before my cousin’s funeral, Michael decides to offer comfort in an oh-so-Michael way.

After establishing how sorry he is and that he hopes everything goes OK at the funeral (a perfect and polite response from someone not close to the family), he decides he can’t leave it at that. He must follow-up with a heartfelt cherry on top — that perfect comment that will really linger in my heart and help me through these hard times.

“You know, Jan and I watch a TV drama with a subplot where a character died like that. And gosh, that’s just really hard,” Michael said forlornly.

This was one of those rare moments in life where my jaw literally dropped — not just in my head. I don’t know why I was surprised. Just a few months earlier, Stanley had a funeral of a close friend, in which Michael stepped in with comforting words about one of Jan’s friend’s brothers (whom he’d never met) dying in the same way.

But at least that was a real person.

“Well that’s not exactly what happened, Michael,” I said and he shifted from one foot to the other. “It doesn’t really happen like it does on TV, you know.”

“Oh well I know,” he stammered (suuuuure you do). “But, well, I just hope everything goes well tomorrow.”

There. See that’s where you should have stopped the first time. Now how can we train you to stop there every time?

You know someone is desperate to make conversation with you when they share with you the opinions of people you don’t know. Or tell you stories about things they haven’t done.

This was my life during Oscar season.

As I’ve mentioned before, Michael loves trying to start movie discussion with me. It never ends well because we just don’t have similar enough tastes.

Yet he insisted on asking me what of the Oscar movies I had seen and what I thought of them.

At that time, I had only seen one of the main contenders: Slumdog Millionaire. Which I told him I really liked.

“Huh I’ll have to go check that out,” he said rattling off all the things he had to do that would prevent him from seeing it this weekend, and mulling over which theaters would actually be screening the film.

So after that weekend passed, he came over to give me a report.

“Well I didn’t get to see Slumdog Millionaire this weekend,” Michael announced.

“Um. OK.”

“But Jan’s sister did with her husband and they really liked it.”

Blank stare.

“Of course they didn’t like Mama Mia, which I loved, so I don’t know how much I trust their opinion.”

I shrugged. I had absolutely no idea what to say to this. Why on earth would I care one little teeny tiny bit about what JAN’S SISTER and JAN’S SISTER’S HUSBAND though about a movie I’ve already told him I liked.

Well maybe I’ll get to see it this weekend, he said relapsing into his list of all the things he may or may not have planned.

Is this what Michael considers a conversation?

So another weekend passes. And come Monday he reports to me again that he hasn’t seen it.

And Friday he tells me they plan to see it that weekend. And THEN repeats the story about how Jan’s sister saw it and liked it (but he doesn’t know if he can trust her).

Wow you’re really going to milk that ONE conversation we had a month ago until it’s dead aren’t you, Michael.

So the next week comes and he hasn’t seen it again! Honestly Michael, I couldn’t care less whether you see this stupid movie or not. Did I say I liked it? Oh I meant I hated it with a burning passion. There will you leave me alone now?

But they did see one of the other Oscar movies, he tells me. And proceeds to tell me all about it, without prompting of course.

Finally, FINALLY, he sees Slumdog Millionaire.

And the verdict?

“We enjoyed it,” he said.

That was it. No discussion about it. No questions about what I thought about certain scenes. No expounding on what he liked about it. I think he liked talking about NOT seeing it more than seeing it.

“Michael if you ignore my e-mails, I’m going to come into your office and pummel you,” I said.

“Well you know, you ‘ll just have to dress it up with stuff about flowers or something,” he said.

“I’ll make all my subject lines ‘Rainbows and puppies’ from now on,” I said.

“I can put pictures of my dog in my e-mails,” Jim chimed in.

“Yeah! ”Rainbows and puppies and oh yeah I’m pissed at you.’ I like it!” Michael said, smiling all the way to his office.

The sad part. I really don’t think he’s joking.

P.S. LOVED Parks and Recreation and The Office last night. Thought both were the best so far this season! (Though, am I losing it, or did Parks and Rec already use the grafitti segment in one of the other episodes? whoopsies) Still laughed really hard through both episodes.

All week Michael and Andy were plotting how they were going to stick the annoyatron (thanks Chris!) to Stanley’s desk.

“What do you think he’ll do?” Michael asked excitedly.

“He’s going to be so mad,” Andy said.

They plotted what Andy would say if Stanley asked him what the noise was (he was going to pretend he couldn’t hear it), and imagined the triumph they would feel upon “getting” Stanley.

Meanwhile, back in reality, Karen had already told Stanley what had happened to her and that Michael was planning to do the same to him.

So when the random chirping began on April Fool’s Day, Stanley said nothing.

And neither did Michael or Andy — which of course was sign number one of their guilt. If they weren’t the source of an annoying noise, they would have been the first ones poking around investigating it.

When I returned from lunch, Andy and Michael were still gone on break … and so was the noise.

“So where is it?” I asked Stanley while searching around his desk area.

Michael had a nervous smile on his face as he went back to his office.

Meanwhile Stanley stuck the annoyatron to a sheet of paper that said RIP and hung it at his desk. Michael returned about an hour later.

“No really what did you do with it,” he asked, convincing himself Stanley was playing a practical joke on him.

“It’s right there,” Stanley said pointing to the sign.

“Rest in Peace, hahaha,” Michael said as he took the toy back to his office.

He played with the gadget for a while, a sickly beeping coming from his office every now and then.

Michael returned to Stanley’s desk.

“What did you do to this thing!”

“I told you, I stomped on it. With my boot.”

“I didn’t think you were serious! This cost me $10! I was going to use it on someone else!”

“I TOLD you. You shouldn’t put something on my desk if you want ot get it back.”

This interaction continued throughout the day, culminating in Michael refusing to turn in some of Stanley’s paperwork to corporate.

“Nope, don’t have time. Already sent everyone else’s. You’ll have to do it yourself,” he said in a hurried panicky voice. I haven’t seen such a retaliatory spectacle since little Margret broke Timmy’s crayons in second grade.

Stanley shrugged. “Fine I’ll send it myself.”

Good ol’ Stanley. Always playing it cool and never giving Michael an ounce of satisfaction.